Conversations With Death
by Doom Defiler of Logic
Summary: Death is never easy. Not even for Death.
1. Liam Richardson

He pleaded. It was all he could think of doing.

"No, you don't understand!" He began to cry, the big aching sobs he remembered from his childhood. He thought about wiping his tears, but decided against it. Perhaps they would win him some points with this man. No, not a man, something so much more than that; Death. He was talking to Death. "Its not my time."

Death sighed, an ageless sigh which seemed to creak with eternity. "Is that really all you can come up with? Do you have any idea how old that excuse was when I first heard it in English?" His eyes stared out at him from deep, dark sockets. His face, though that of a human, was far too close to a skull for Liam's liking. "Its too cliché. I was hoping to hear something better."

Liam looked down and watched his corpse lying, impossibly, at his feet. He felt like it should have repulsed him. Or made him long to be back inside it, but he didn't feel anything like that. It was just there, like it was no more than a can on pavement. It was completely divorced from him.

He was much more concerned about his wife. She sat there, cradling the head in her arms as a small crowd walled her in. Her beautiful black hair curled down into her already red, agitated eyes. "Liam!" She yelled, her fingers digging deep into his body's arm, as the blood began to pool around her knees. "No, please! Please, Liam! Liam!"

"I would hug her now." Death lent on his cane, looking around at the scene as though it were something trivial. "It will be the last chance you ever get."

Liam looked at him, terrified. "What about the afterlife? She'll be there right?"

Death looked him straight in the eye. A moment past where nothing could be heard. Finally, he said. "Yes, she'll be there."

"Then why is this my last chan-"

Death gestured towards Sarah, "please. You don't have much time."

With great reluctance, Liam crouched down behind his wife and gently placed his arms around her. He felt the roughness of her shirt, the smooth skin of her neck, the warmth spreading out from her. But he could not feel her and she gave no sign of noticing his presence.

He tried to place his hand on the back of her head, to perform some last act of reassurance, but it passed right through her. "Its ok." He said, barely keeping his voice from cracking. "It's all going to be alright."

Death's eyes stared sleepily onto the scene. "Before we go, is there anything you wish to ask me?" Liam looked up, tears in his eyes. "I always make it my duty to answer one question for each person I reap. And, more importantly, to answer it truthfully. I give them that much."

Liam couldn't think of anything for a moment, he was entirely preoccupied with Sarah, with trying to get her to notice him. But nothing would work. His hands would just pass right through her without her ever knowing. "Will she be ok?"

Death looked down upon her, a practiced condescension plastering his face. "She's alive, isn't she?"

"That's not an answer." Liam felt like the world was shattering. He couldn't see this as his death. It felt more like being ripped away from his wife. He'd always imagined death to be the end.

Death took a step forward and offered Liam his hand. "And unfortunately, its the only answer I can give. The future has never been written in stone."

There was a moment where the universe was filled with a brilliant white light which pervaded every part of Liam's being, and then there was nothing.


	2. Rachael Kyle

Cloaked in shadows, the man materialised in complete silence. She hadn't even noticed him; even though he sat at the foot of her bed, he didn't seem to apply any weight down. It was as if he just hovered there. Even with his apparent weightlessness, she still should have noticed him. His suit may have been a deep black, but her room was a bit too bright for him to hide in. And yet, she hadn't, not until he spoken up, even though she'd been looking right at him.

"Hello, my dear." He said with a voice which reminded her, strangely, of butterflies.

Upon hearing him speak, she wrestled herself into a seating position to get a good look at him. She didn't feel afraid that there was a man in his room, just curious. And because of that, she had to assume she was dreaming. In real life, after all, she would have been frightened. Still, she was curious to know who this dream man was.

"Are you a ghost?" She asked.

He gave her a little sideways glance. From what little she could see, he looked old. His face was cast with a blue tint, as was everything else in the room, with the exception of his suit, and had quite a few wrinkles. That struck her as odd. His skin appeared to be pulled taut over his face and yet he had wrinkles.

"No, my dear. I am not."

"Then who are you?" She asked. If one had not already known, her naive curiosity here would have revealed her age.

He ignored her and began to gaze around at the empty white walls of her room. He sighed. "Are you feeling better, Rachael? No longer sick?"

"No." She replied, remembering how much pain she'd been in before she'd fallen asleep. Her throat had seemed to burn every time she swallowed, and had gone completely raw with each racking cough. Combined with the fever, which had made her feel like she was in the middle of a snow storm, she'd been through the worse pain of her young life. Her father had been with her while as she tossed and turned, but she supposed he'd finally gone to bed. "I feel much better."

"That's good." He replied, as if he hadn't been listening. He was silent for a moment, allowing Rachael to hear the rustling of the curtains and the little patter of mice across the floor, but he soon continued. "I offer something to everyone I meet. Well, under these circumstances, at least. It's the chance to ask a question; a question I will absolutely answer truthfully." He gave her another sideways glance. "Would you like to ask such a question?"

Rachael looked at him suspiciously. "What kind of question?"

"Any kind of question. On absolutely anything. It helps brings solace."

"On anything?" Rachael asked, biting her lip. She started to think of her mother, who'd be taken by the same sickness which had struck her brothers. And grandparents. And so many of the people in the village. And her. She was scared it was going to take her for a while, but she guessed she had gotten better. And although the deaths of her siblings and friends were pressing, nothing was quite as bad as her mother's passing.

"Yes. Even on those things grown-ups can't tell you."

She averted her eyes from him and blushed. Whenever she'd asked the priests or her father this, they'd always just looked sad and treated her like a child. She didn't what that to happen here, but she felt she like could trust this man. And besides, it was only a dream. "Will I ever see my mummy again?"

The man got to his feet and walked round the bed towards her, buttoning up his jacket as he went. His eyes, suck deep within his sockets, were a remarkable shade of blue, almost impossibly so, and seemed to carry a great sadness within them. When he was right beside her, he reached down and touched her lightly on the forehead. "No."

There was a brilliant white light-


	3. Zaphriel

/Dark shapes through clotted mist/

A slinky, midnight black

cat crept closer

/Shining, black diamond rising to meet

/Pure light floating from centre/

Ferocious and dangerous

it looked ready to devour her

/The reflection bloomed beside

/Detached from mortal sculptures/

/Dark shapes

/Wait before xir/

The cat stood to attention

\Greetings, Zaphriel\

/The words had no source

/Neither psychic nor verbal

/They float through void/

\Your passing begins\

/ /I am aware/ xir responds

/Down upon crystal

/Sunk deep within reflection/

Orange fur

/Feathery core, oozing/

Blood

/Cackling energy/

\And yet, you wish to flee\

/Should not

/Hear those/

The black cat purred

/ words/

/No one wants to Pass/

/Shapes flash

/With Zaphriel's own/

The cat's eyes gleamed with sentience

\Not now\

\So come, loyal soldier

\Your timing ended

\To enter the Next, thou must\

\First, the offer

\One question

\Answered true\

The cats stared at each other,

loyal vessels

/Zaphriel thought on that

/Thought of world's pushed close

/On time in everyone

/And asked/

/What of my Father?/

/Shapes cascade round

\Crystallized

\Feathered

\Wings\

The cat let out an almost human chuckled

\On creation, He looked

\And seeing

\Reflections of Himself

\He wept\

\And no more will

\Angel

\Look upon His brilliance\

/Flaming tendril reach/

The cat crept closer

/Between vessel and angel

/Two as one ending/

/Eternal light

/Tore apart existence/

* * *

If you can understand this, you're lying.

Angel true form vision is bizzare to humans.

P.S. The line structure is not the way I would have wanted it, does not like how I play with it apparantly, but yeah. Enjoy?


End file.
